filicudes of fivedock ~ a saga in 3 parts ~ chapt 3

The curtain raises for the final scene. All the principal players are in place – Placido sings Recondita armonia off stage ….. the orchestra is yet to take their seats – continued fom here

The bank accountants arrived at one o’ clock, precisely. The five of them all wore suits and ties and as is the way with timid men of who work in offices amongst women and computers they did not raise a serious complaint when they were seated at an inferior table by the entrance.

A couple of them recognised the prize-fighter sitting amongst his friends by the Pizzeria and they made much of being in his company although he was four tables distant and cared not a whistle for the five fat men sitting in the wind of the open door.

Gennaro visited their table and with much gusto he insisted that they take a glass of Chianti with him before ordering. Chianti, like its sister wine Beaujolais is a rough wine made only for drunkards and women who sit alone at home all day, but Australians have not this understanding of things. This we all know and Gennaro did perhaps offer it to these important businessmen with loud flourishes if only to engage the attention of a nearby table of countrymen who were visiting Sydney from Griffith to finalise some other kind of business, the type of which is not necessary to mention at this time.

Words in haste lay bodies waste do they not?

Whenever men such as these Griffith men visited the restaurant they usually stayed late and drank much. Gennaro would take a drink with such men if they would allow it, but on that day the sun will never rise.

Later some would say it was like an Italian Opera. Others likened it to a scene from a movie of Chicago mobsters or a Mafai movie, whatever. What did become of it is that we have no new second story, though we do have new furniture, and Gennaro does no longer leave his dogs nor the walls of his home in Castle Hill. For this, at least, we are deeply grateful.

Much happened quickly.

Marco was serving Rosa’s Prawns Caprice to the bankers when a delivery-man entered the restaurant pushing a trolley load of cartons. This man had proceeded almost all the way through the room unnoticed by the patrons until he drew level with the boxer’s table.

By this time the fighter and his friends were very boisterous as Gennaro had informed them yet again that their meal was to be delayed only a little while longer. In this business a customer waiting for his meal is only happy if he is drinking and the pity of that is that an empty stomach sends the wine to the head a little too quickly. In this case, of all the men at the boxer’s table the fighter was the only one who read what was written on the cases being wheeled past and he remained clear-headed enough to remember the conversation he overheard in the kitchen earlier.

‘ I will fix the problem, ‘ had said Gennaro, ‘ it is only a phone call. ‘

With an oath of such richness and vulgarity that it silenced not only his own table but also every other voice in the restuarant, whether they be Italians or a Corsicans or Sicilians, the fighter arose quisckly from his seat. He then climbed from his chair onto the tabletop and then proceeded from that place to where Gennaro was once again bowing his oiled head to the Griffith businessmen.

The fighter was now leaping from table to table on quick and sure feet and casting not a glance at the disturbances in his wake. Plates of food were being scattered noisily to the floor. Bottles of wine fell and were shattered. The enraged prizefighter, his eyes grimly set and fixed upon his quarry who had now turned and stood quaking and ashen faced, and bewildered – rapidly closed the distance between the two of them.

His gymnasium friends too followed in a rush of such vigour and momentum that a man of thin blood screamed before fainting into his companions’ arms. All the aunts crowded their heads into the servery hatch to witness this unexpected drama.

Behind Gennaro the big Griffith men stood as one and they all turned to welcome the advance they mistook as being directed at them. One produced a black handgun out of his coat and from the hands of two others flickered lengths of glittering steel.

Gennaro – now mute with terror – fell backwards into the accountant’s Prawn Caprice at the dreadful shock of this development,

– and the fighter launched himself at him, at the dog who would think to serve a Neapolitan bolognaise sauce made of Pal dogfood.